


Old Soldiers

by Comedia



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comedia/pseuds/Comedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They must make a pathetic pair;  Herc with his arm in a wrap, stubbornly helping Stacker suit up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Soldiers

It's not like they've been apart much since they reunited in Hong Kong. Stacker knows he won’t be alone for long, so he leaves the door unlocked. He takes another pill, more out of habit than anything else. It slowly dissolves, and the powder-like substance sticks to the roof of his mouth, but it helps him focus. His breathing steadies out. He's ready to suit up a final time.

Looking into the mirror he makes sure that he's not shaking, that his calm demeanor is still intact. Herc appears next to him, seemingly out of nowhere. He moves quietly for such a big guy – there's no way to tell how long he's been in the room.

"Figured you might need help with this." He's not big on words – neither of them are – but they've never really been in need of long-winded speeches. With Herc it's always been easy to leave things unsaid, under the assumption that they’ll be understood sooner or later.

They must make a pathetic pair;  Herc with his arm in a wrap, stubbornly helping Stacker suit up.

Turns out that taking his formal wear off is the easy part. Left in nothing but his underwear there's a moment – a few seconds of quiet and breathing and them standing so close in the concrete room – that could end very differently. In another time and place, it might've. Now there's just a glance, a silent confirmation that they're sharing the same thoughts. It's the kind of understanding he needs much more than touch, and the silence remain as Herc awkwardly helps him put on the armor base.

Every now and then their hands will touch; rough fingertips at Stacker’s neckline, adjusting the suit with a routine only an experienced ranger will possess. Herc is careful and precise, giving him attention only a returning soldier deserves.

"Three arms are definitely more effective than two." Stacker's voice is much more quiet and hoarse than he wants it to be, but he's not entirely in control right now. He's not meant to own this moment.

Herc answers simply with a thin smile and a respectful nod. It's true that they don't have time to grieve, but the sorrow remains nonetheless. Three promising men lost in the line of duty, not much older than Mako. It pains him to send people to their deaths, people that could've grown old together, had not the Kaiju war gotten in the way.

Many crews have passed him by; eager youths thinking they can save the world and powerhouses like the Kaidanovsky’s, which have been clinging to life since the beginning.

Looking at what they have left, it can't all have been for nothing.

They've moved on to the actual armor, and Herc is helping him with the back piece when Stacker once again breaks the silence.

"I need this to work. I need Mako to make it through." Even though he knows she'll be a force to be reckoned with, he's seen so many skilled rangers go under. Victorious or not, he needs her to emerge from the pacific again.

The upper armor snaps into place, and Herc comes around to face him. "She will. You raised her well." He gives Stacker a once over, looking for anything they've missed, perhaps hoping to stall the inevitable. "You're a much better father than I ever was."

Stacker sighs, straightening his posture and making sure the suit fits. "Don't say that. He's a good kid. A good man." It’s pathetic how he still needs time to say the most obvious things. As if Herc doesn’t already know. “You both are.”

Time’s moving abnormally fast. They should be out of here by now. People like them aren’t allowed privacy or selfishness, and yet they cling to this.

“Should be me joining you in Striker.” And Stacker can’t even look at him, because it’s true. If this mission fails the loss is at a vast scale, but it’s more than that. It’s the little things, like hearing the comm-link to your kid go static; like seeing a light flicker and die on a monitor screen. At least Mako isn’t piloting with a man who’s going to die no matter the outcome.

“I know. I'm sorry.”

They’re by the door. One step away from the chaos they’re supposed to be in control of. It should be easy by now, but he’s always found it exceptionally hard to reach for the handle in situations like these.

“It was always going to end like this, wasn't it?” Stacker doesn’t need to look at Herc to know that he’s shaking his head; the tone of voice is enough. It’s the conversation he didn’t want to have, but perhaps its better this way.

“I'd rather die in a Jaeger.”

Herc’s sigh is not without humor. It’s nothing more than a breath, yet the laughter is there, warm and understanding; the kind of warmth you would normally only find in the drift. “I won't do this to you, you don't need it.” As he hesitates, there’s movement. Stacker can hear the embrace before he feels it, the thick armor shielding him from both body temperature and touch. Herc holds him with one arm, his voice nothing but a whisper in Stacker’s ear. “But make it count.”

Really, there’s not much left to say. It all seems rather redundant, and he’d feel silly trying to put his thoughts into words. He ends up with the most basic of farewells. “It's been an honor.”

When Herc goes silent, he seems to cease breathing for a moment. Time stops, and only picks up pace once he’s spoken again. "Same."

They need this now, because there's no room for them outside that door. The Shatterdome – their people – need a fixed point. They need leaders that never falter, and except for the rangers, that responsibility fall to well-known names like Hansen and Pentecost. For a moment, this last time, they can break. Expose all scars and worries only old soldiers can carry.

Herc holds him tight with his one arm, burying his face in Stacker's neck and breathing in. It's a tough embrace, with the desperation that’ll only be present when you've left most things unsaid.

Everything passes in a blur from that point. Because he needs to have this conversation again, he needs to explain himself to Mako. To Chuck. To everyone. Stacker’s duty has always been so much bigger than him, and there are moments when he forgets how small he actually is.

Chuck questions him, obviously. It’s an argument they can’t afford, and Stacker ends it before it can actually begin. He’s slowly catching up with reality, with the gravity of it all, and Herc watches from afar – worn out by a kind of burden his son couldn’t possibly understand. This is the moment Stacker’s voice softens, the moment he hesitates for just a second in order for his words to really mean something.

“… but you are your father’s son, so we’ll drift just fine.” More than anything, it’s a reassurance for both of them. His words are not simply for Chuck anymore. With Herc watching them it’s an apology. A farewell. A declaration of respect – of everything they’ve been and everything they will be.

He’s never been big on words – neither of them have – but this is enough. Chuck might not see the whole picture right now, but he will soon enough. All Stacker needs is for Herc to get it, before it’s too late.

Before he’s out of reach for good.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write short things on [tumblr](http://comediakaidanovsky.tumblr.com/) as well (but mostly I just cry about fictional characters).


End file.
